Is this real life? (The coming chronicles of a soon-to-be bartender near you)

I promise I am not being controversial because I can. I have not gone off the deep end. I am legitimately sane. I still love Jesus and I think he has led me to my current path in life.

I just went to my first day of bartending school. And I loved it.

This is not surprising to those of you who know me best. And some of you may even be surprised that I think some people I know might be surprised or disappointed in my decisions. 

But maybe for some of you, this is the next thing on your list that makes you question my sanity.

To you, I say: I love you, yes I have changed a lot, but I'm still me, I love Jesus, he led me here; and if you have questions, that's totally fine. Ask them.

I do not want to create controversy, but I am not afraid of it. I am not afraid of disagreement, though I would like for it to be as civil and loving as possible.

Don't freak out on me. Don't drop me like a hot plate.

and please, please, don't question my love for my Lord. Through him, it is stronger than ever.

My thoughts are this: obedience, ministry; and job flexibility, availability, and security. Saving up for traveling...school...whatever God has for me next.

I'm not going to write a long post explaining all of my thought processes, but I just wanted to put this out there. This is what I'm doing for now.

and I'm pretty excited about it. :)

...


Stay tuned for motorcycles and tattoos. ha.










Though, I'm seriously not kidding about that either.


*smirk*

A typical(?) morning

Annie the extraordinaire has left us for the week to see family in France. It is a well deserved break for her, as she does most everything around here. She has been with the Petrie's for a long time and know's everything there is to know about the house and about Rebecca's care. So Kayla and I are mostly on our own this week, except for when Paul is around to help. Annie does most of the cooking, laundry, translating, and just all the little details that need to be taken care of, so Kayla and I both know that this week is going to be a hard one.

I hope that the rest of this week will go a bit smoother than this morning. Kayla and I have worked out the schedule where I do most of the morning duties and she does the evening stuff and the midnight turn. I think it is helping both of our bodies to have a better rhythm and better sleep. I think both of us already feel a little less exhausted.

This morning I got up around 6:30, I actually set my alarm for 5:55 so I could get a shower but I definitely shut that alarm up as soon as I heard it and decided it was not worth it. I went downstairs at 7:00 to do the morning duties with Paul, basically hygiene stuff and getting her in her chair. Paul left and I arranged her room, fed the birds, and got her breakfast and tea ready.  When I had all of that done I went back into the kitchen to make my breakfast. Thankfully I have learned to make my coffee while I make her tea or I would fall over before I get to eat. I will usually try to do something simple, like scrambled eggs and toast, but since I am trying not to eat as much bread I have been doing omelettes or fancy scrambled eggs, so it takes a bit longer. This morning, I was was running in and out of the kitchen and taking my skillet off the burner when I heard the buzzer (the thing we carry around with us in case Rebecca needs us).

When I finally was done with everything, I got to sit for about twenty minutes before getting Rebecca ready for KINE (physical therapy). When the lovely Donatienne (I'm not sure how to spell it), got here at 9:15 I ran up to get ready for the day. I'm pretty sure took a ten-fifteen minute shower (which, if you know me, is pretty amazing), got ready and ran down to get ready for the morning nurse. We had many mishaps with the poor morning nurse, so it took a bit longer than normal. After that we had to rush around to get Rebecca ready for the garden architect who was coming at 11:00. We got her out a bit late, around 11:10. While she and Paul were outside with the garden architect. I tried to get lots of dishes done. Last night, Kayla and I rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, but didn't start it because it wasn't a full load. We rinsed them so well that they looked clean and some of them got unloaded this morning, so I pulled lots of dishes out from the cupboard and washed most of them. It was almost time to get ready for lunch, so I was trying to hurry and I was getting a bit frantic, really, from running around all morning. While I was washing cups in the sink, praying for patience and joy, and a good attitude, the doorbell rang.

"What now!" I exclaimed.

It was the grocery delivery that I had forgotten about. So I had to go open the garage and find the card to pay the man, but I got the wrong card, forgot my "Je suis désolé. Je ne parle pas Français," and tried to look apologetic instead of frustrated. (Can I please just learn French by osmosis?) I finally had to get Paul from the garden to help me and went back inside ready to bang my head against a cabinet repeatedly.

Once that was dealt with and Paul was back in the garden, I just had to work out my frustration, so I put on some music on my computer and rocked out to FLAME (a christian rapper) in the kitchen while I was drying dishes. I felt really funny, blasting rap in the kitchen, and totally getting down while I was doing dishes in the kitchen where you can usually hear soft piano music playing. It seriously helped though.

 As soon as I saw them coming back up the path, I put on something a bit more mellow:

(which I enjoyed just as much. I love A Fine Frenzy)

I put everything out for lunch and was the last one to go sit down. Whew! It was a lovely lunch. Today we got to sit out on the deck for the first time this Spring. I look forward to many more meals out there. 

After cleaning up from lunch I ran upstairs to clean up a bit and put some lotion on my poor red and dry hands, went to the second floor to the family room where I have hung out a bit with my sister, in the room and on the deck, and am now writing this blog. I opened the deck door and the window across the room, so there is a nice cross-breeze and I have been listening to Bon Iver in one ear and the birds and the children playing in the other. It has been quite lovely. :) 

My feet (and whole body really) are tired and sore, but my soul is refreshed in this little bit of rest that I am having, enjoying my Saviour's gifts to me. Sunshine, fresh air, and lovely music. The birds remind me of his care and his grace. The wind is a cool kiss upon my face. And the music takes me to a place of rest and wonder. The second cup of coffee will give me the energy I need to get through the next four hours (hopefully).  Tonight we have guests coming and Kayla and I have to figure out what in the world to do for dinner. So here's to a lovely (and busy) rest of the day!

I totally made her pose for these. :)

I think she did well, don't you?

This is quickly becoming our favorite room in the house.

I hope you can see why. :)

Still considering a break-in. Seriously!! Just look at it!

About half a pot will get me through most of the day. 

I'm very thankful for my coffee

And delicious biscuits.

It is so easy to bless and thank the Lord in these times of rest. I SO need to improve in thanking the Lord when I am trying to get a hundred things done at once and so many things do not go as I planned. 

But in all of it there is grace. 

P.S. So sorry about all the un-editedness of these posts. I hardly have time to get it all out and by the time I have written there is either not any time to go back and polish it, or I am just to mentally tired out to do it. Hope you enjoy reading them anyway. :)

Foreign Experiences

Things have been pretty busy this past week, so I haven't had time to post as much as I would like. I'm trying to get all of this down so I don't forget anything.  I have a bit of time now, so I might have to do a few posts. :)


First, my day off.
My day off was right after Kayla's, so I went into it pretty exhausted. I got to sleep into 10:00, which was glorious. (Let me just say, I don't think I have ever appreciated sleep as much as I do right now.) I took my sweet time getting ready, partly just enjoying the time to do so and partly out of nervousness from the prospects of wandering around by myself. I ate a late lunch and tried to find somewhere in particular to go, but then decided I was stalling and decided to just walk out the door.


Once out of the house I let out a sigh, telling myself that it was not going to be as bad as I thought and telling myself, "Hey! You are in freaking Belgium, even if you don't see anything too exciting, it will still be in BELGIUM. So, just march young lady!" And I did march. For almost four hours and almost six miles.

I ended up walking around almost the entire village. Ooops. 

It wasn't as much fun as it would have been with someone else (ex. my sister), but it was great to get some exercise and see more of the area. I feel a little crazy though, when I am out and about by myself. I mutter to myself a lot when I don't have someone to talk to and feel super conspicuous. I think even more so here, because I don't speak the language. The longest phrase I have learned thus far is "Je suis désolé. Je ne parle pas français." Which means "I'm sorry, I don't speak French." (I just had to google how to spell it, by the way.) Even simpler things, like Merci, and Bonjour, just polite little phrases like that are not sticking well, because when I am in a situation to say them I think of the Spanish words first. And I hardly know any Spanish. Ridiculousness. Stupide américain! (or estúpido americano...) 

Anyhoo, I walked in one direction, knowing generally which direction I was going, but then ended up at a traffic circle with so many choices of where to go, I just decided go to the Genval Cimetière because there was a sign for it and between the word and the tiny symbol by it, I knew what it meant. (And that has great value these days. Knowing the meaning of words, that is.)

So you are about to be assaulted with pictures of a Belgian Cemetery, because really, if you end up in a Cemetery in a foreign country, you might as well document the experience, right? 

I suppose it was quite different than any cemetery I have ever seen before, so that's something...

Next, I went round the cemetery and found a lovely wall, so naturally I took a rest in the shade and snapped a few pictures of myself leaning wistfully against said wall, as people are usually inclined to do.

  After those melancholy and stationary photos, of course I needed a happy walking picture, so here it is:

Happy AND walking. What a combination. 

 Even Belgium has dumpy looking places.

 The rare, hot sunshine.

 Entrance to the cemetery. I had to double back to go towards home again. 

 A lovely home that I liked on my walk.

I walked down a random dirt path and found this lovely field (below). 

Not sure where I am at this point

 After I came out from this dirt road, I knew generally where I was and it was quite far from where I had started. I saw a grocery store, so I went in to look around and get something to eat as I was quite hungry by that point. It was probably the low point of my expedition. I walked around the whole time feeling like someone was going to find out that I was not a native and scorn me or something, and I hadn't done anything super stupid yet, so I was just waiting for that moment to happen.


When I gathered all my goodies and plucked up the courage to get in line I felt increasingly conspicuous as I heard all the French around me. I put my basket in the wrong place and a man said something to me and placed it in the right spot, in a stack of baskets right in front of my feet. I had picked the wrong grocery bag and the lady at the register tried to explain this to me. I don't know why I don't immediately say that I can't speak French instead of standing there looking dumb and trying to figure out what people are saying, as if it will magically start translating in my brain. I finally got it and loudly exclaimed, "oh, OH!" like the loud American that I am. After realizing how loud and dumb I just sounded, my flustered factor greatly increased and as soon I was done with my transaction, after saying my "merci's" of course, I booked it out of the closest door. As it happens, they were the wrong doors, which I figured out as soon as I stepped down the odd step and swung the door back behind me, all while moving out as quick as I could, so I didn't notice until several long strides away that it was not and automatic door, it did not shut all the way, and it was most likely the door they open for loading and unloading. When I was about a third of the parking lot away, someone shouted out something in French and closed the door emphatically. Oh, dear. I suppose it could have been worse.


I kept walking and found the little path that my sister and I had discovered on our first walk out, so I sat down to enjoy my awkwardly bought spoils. I got a baguette and some lunch meat for a good snack and some Belgian Wafels for a treat.

 Wafels. Yum.

Walking past the Schweppes factory 

Wondering if I'll ever make it home

Thankful for a familiar sight!

Relaxing by the Lac 

The best chocolate I've ever had in my life. 

This is the house next door. It is vacant and falling apart. I have wanted to brake in and look through the house and feel like Nancy Drew every time I see it. 

So, that was my day. Despite all the mishaps I really did enjoy it. Especially since we ended the evening with Downton Abbey!!!!

The deal with doctors

I am about to do what I possibly dread most in all of life.
Go to the doctor.
Doctors and I do not have a great history.
When I was little my mom would never tell me that we were going to get shots until we were in the parking lot. I'm sure it was killer to get me inside. My 2nd mom (as I affectionately like to call her) would have to come to back my mom up, basically to drag me through the door.
I'm sure there were many times this happened, but the one I most keenly remember was when I was about 7 or 8, I think.
I had to be coaxed through the office door as usual, but I got a bit smarter and tried to appear a bit more calm. When we were called back I let Kayla (my dear older sister) go first and as soon as everyone had their back turned I ran. I think my escape was pretty short lived, but I remember it being pretty awesome. Adrenaline pulse through my veins as I ran and hid. I think I made it to the opposite side of the back of the office, with the door to the waiting room in sight. I bolted for the door, but was caught mid-sprint by my dear 2nd mom, Kathy. 
Once taken back to the room I had to be held down so they could administer the shots.
I still hate, hate, hate, needles. 

Given that I do not have any great affection for doctors, my track record in keeping myself away from them is not so great.

I broke my arm in the 3rd grade by jumping out of a swing. We were having a contest to see who could land the farthest away from the swings and I had to win. I thought that height must equal distance, so I jumped off at the highest point possible and sailed through the air to my supposed victory, and landed quite inefficiently on my elbow.  My mom said that they could hear the crack of it breaking.

I ended up having surgery to fish a chip of my growth plate out of my arm so it could be put back in its proper place. I am happy to report that I have two correctly proportioned arms.

We never really went to the doctor that much. I still don't go unless I am really sick or have injured myself.

The next huge thing I remember was slicing my leg open on a recliner. A recliner.
I was sitting in it and decided to get up, and didn't put the leg rest down to do so. Apparently there was some kind of rod in the leg rest that was coated in plastic except for the end, which happened to be razor sharp. I ended up with a gaping and bleeding wound from that tumble with the recliner. We went to a minor emergency center to get it stitched up and they did a horrible job of it. They gave me two numbing shots and hardly gave them time to work before stitching up my leg with thirteen stitches for a three inch long cut. I now have a caterpillar-like scar as a result. I have named him George. Pronounced in the French way of course. 

I've done pretty well in the injury category since then, I think. No surgery or stitches necessary at least. Some ridiculous things like sprained big toes, fainting out of chairs and hitting my face on table legs, and sitting in an already broken chair which resulted in many bruises and whiplash. Plus, some pretty necessary dental work, like getting my wisdom teeth out, and oh yeah, jaw surgery. 

Most of my life I have viewed doctors as an annoying and painful step to fixing an injury or improving an illness, and usually I like to tough it out and get over whatever is ailing me without them, but at this stage in my life I have decided that it is time for me to grow up and try to see doctors as a necessary help instead of the-thing-that-plagues-my-existence-and-must-avoid-at-all-cost.

I have been getting sick pretty frequently over the past year and even more frequently over the past six months. This has thrown major kinks in my plans of getting a steady job and earning money for upcoming travel, but it has been good in the effects of making me more aware of how I am treating my body, making changes, and finally seeking help for it.

True to my dramatic, a bit hypochondriac self, I have WebMD'ed it up and have been freaking out about all the possible immune system attacking diseases I might have, but really I am hoping that it might be something as simple (or not so simple really) as food allergies or hormone imbalances. The worst answer would be "we don't know" or "nothing." There needs to be something tangible wrong with me so they can fix it!

 All this to say, I am actually looking forward to going to the doctor next week to hopefully get some answers and make some more healthy changes before I embark on the World Travel Adventure of 2012.

The business of living

I have not written for over half a year and I have many good excuses and some ridiculous ones that all involve my life, mental health, growth, and failures. I shall not make a long list of them here. I shall instead tell of my life and it's recent developments and I think my absence from this world will be explained.

I was working toward something. I had a plan. I nearly always have a long term life plan and they usually always fail. When I was a young senior in High School it had something to do with traveling the world, saving orphans from evil warlords, and somehow managing to be brilliant at everything. I had no idea how I was going to get where I wanted to go, but I knew that I would get there eventually. A super-missionary badass was what I wanted to be (though at that time I wouldn't have used as colorful a description) and I had the most unwavering faith that I would someday be in Uganda, scooping up abandoned children with one burly (but feminine) arm while bringing horrid tyrants to justice with my other fist. This was my dream and as far as I was concerned would be my literal future, but if I have learned anything so far in this life it is that things never go as we plan. 

That dream faded into the background after I moved with my family eight months after I graduated. At the time I was excited and sad to go. I was ready for a change, ready for escape, but once the smoke cleared and the reality of it all set in I realized that I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going. I think that my world was so small before and my experiences so limited, I thought that even though I dreamed of new things my life would be relatively constant.

I took classes from CNM and then transferred to The Master's College and started taking online classes, all the time planning to eventually get to the physical college in California and major in biblical counseling, but somewhere in there the impracticality of coming from a middle class family, not dealing with money wisely, and $38,000 in tuition hit me over the head like a two-ton brick. I still took some more online classes, because it was least something to do, and I think at that time it was where the Lord wanted me. I started the first semester at TMC excited to delve into theology and excited to learn, but mostly I was excited to get where I was going. By the end of my second ten week semester of only two classes I was getting burnt out. I failed my biblical counseling final and scraped by on my Old Testament survey final, so I should have known better than to immediately go into another semester. Before I hit mid-terms, even with only one class, I was already burnt out (charred-and-toasty burnt out). My brain just shut down and I was done. I dropped out and was mentally exhausted.

That was five months ago and I still have no idea what I am doing next.

During all this I was also working part-time as a nanny, which was a wonderful learning experience and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I loved my kids and loved the family, but it was draining me as well. Plus, after Kayla and I moved out to live in my Grandmother's old house, our work schedules did not work out for sharing our car. So I quit a little over a month ago.

This is my life now. No job, no school, and new responsibilities like paying bills and buying groceries. 

My dwindling bank account and my sister/housemate/main household bread winner are telling me to find a job, and I have been looking, but so far the search has been a pattern of pouring through hundreds of strange and ambiguous craigslist job ads and other job listing sites, writing a very sad and sparse resume, trying to figure out the art of self-promotion, and watching lots of shows on Netflix. No, I do not have at least a year of retail experience; no I have never worked as a barista before, but guess what?! If you hired me I would! Also, I have a great personality, am a team player, am customer service minded, and am an excellent multi-tasker. Instead of telling them what I have done I want to tell them what I want: "I want to be able to pay my bills without smelling like food or children all the time." "I would like a job that will allow me to maintain my current level of sanity."

Other than going through a counseling class at my church, I am doing nothing concerning a life plan. Though it is driving me crazy not having a timeline I think it is ok for now. I mean, did I ever really know what I was doing?

In this in-between time I have been wrestling with God to give me a new plan, to tell me what in the world to do with my life, and this whole time (my entire life really) he has just been trying to give me more of himself. I have been pushing him away because my god was my plan.

In my counseling class I am learning that we all have something that drives us, something that we are looking toward for hope. My future hope has been the fulfillment of my own plans. That is not far enough or big enough. My plans have to die for the moment so I can learn how big they need to be. My future is sure: I will be like Christ in the end. Whole and perfect. My present is hopeful: I am being transformed and renewed day by day. A work in progress.

This is the business of living.

I promise I am not yet dead, but my brain might explode at any second

 *DISCLAIMER: This post is random and awful*
Hello my few but dear readers :)
I have missed writing and I hope you have missed me.
I intended to be much more frequent in my posting, but you know how life happens...

I have at least had a couple titles for posts that I have not written in the past month, the first being, "Freaking Out/Why I Am Ridiculous," and the other being, "None of us have it all together, but we like to look like we do." So, even though I never actually wrote those, maybe you can get an idea of what I have been going through.

Firstly, School=CRAZY. Why did no one ever tell me that college would be this hard? Do I not talk to enough people or does no one complain as much as I do? Please tell me it's worth it.
If you don't know, I am taking classes online from The Master's College and Seminary and their online courses have four ten-week semesters with only a week or two break in between them, except between my Fall and Winter semesters I had a break for ten weeks. TEN WEEKS!  This is not normal. Yes, I am complaining about the break AND the semesters, but mostly about the semesters. Everything that I have to do is squished into a short period of time so that by the time I am done I am a heap of exhaustion. I am only in my second semester of this and am trying to figure out if there is any alternative to this crazy mess. Vacation from life please.

Secondly, Bob Ross is the Boss. If you haven't seen The Joy of Painting, then you just don't know. I swear I have never been so excited to watch someone paint on TV before.

Thirdly, I went out and bought some oil paints and canvases because I was so inspired by Bob. Haha! We will see if I can do something exciting with them. I have never painted with oils before, only acrylic. Actually, I don't think I have ever painted anything with structure-collages don't really count in my book. Oh, I have done paintings with watercolor, but that is extremely different.

Fourthly, if anyone has figured out how to balance school, work, family, friends, church, hobbies, their relationship with God, and keep their sanity; PLEASE let me know.

So many things...

Wow, sorry for this...but I am committed to posting...

^This would be the unpolished me^

Just keepin' it real, yo.
Ha.